


Game of Thrones: S8 E4 Last of the Starks or the Ballad of Brienne & Jaime

by HBSailin



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, First Time
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-12
Updated: 2019-05-21
Packaged: 2020-03-01 06:53:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 16,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18795211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HBSailin/pseuds/HBSailin
Summary: There are 4 chapters, all of which are within Season 8, Episode 4, and perhaps an Epilogue. I haven't read the books, sorry, but I scoured the wiki. Details mostly from the show, some from the books.Brienne, to me, would be all muscle and bone, like a female athlete, and Jaime would be beautiful naked, with a nice round butt. Sorry actors, my fantasy, my rules.I wanted to call this "There, I Fixed It," but my husband is a poop. Then we argued about whether or not any of the behaviors were ACTUALLY out of character ... I thought the writing was juvenile & penile, so I'm giving it a go. I'm trying to stay with what I *think* are the needs and intentions of the show's narrative (bleech).I added love scenes. Nothing is too precious to share in print, and admit it, most of us GOT fans are voyeurs anyway. The fact that they toned it down was perhaps good for the actor's dignities, but BOR-ING. I'm hoping I do Brienne right - a bit of agency and trust and growth! - and that damn Lannister, too. His hero's journey is among the most fascinating and tragic, perhaps only to be outdone by the Dragon Queen Herself.As for Brienne, she's too good for all of us.





	1. The Maid of Tarth

***

The four sat in the Great Hall of Winterfell, celebrating being alive with the rest of the castle, and playing a drinking game. The hall was warm from fire, bodies, and candles, and everyone, excepting a few singular souls, seemed to be having a wonderful time, Tyrion, Jaime, Podrick, and Brienne included.

“You’ve had sex with a whore,” Tyrion said, looking his brother right in the eyes and laughing knowingly.

“My dear brother, you know I have not. I leave that distinction to you,” Jaime answered.

“No, not a whore,” Tyrion said, drinking his cup down. “But whenever you had sex, I’m sure it came with a price.”

Jaime drank, not answering, just looking a little drunk and bemused by his brother’s characteristic impudence. Then he looked at Podrick, “And what about you, Pod? I bet you’ve never slept with a whore.”

“Actually, I have,” the young man said. “Lost my virginity to one or two down in King’s Landing.” He raised his cup to Tyrion, who matched it.

“You drink up, brother. Young Podrick here was quite the legend at Baelish’s brothel. Whatever he did, he did it so well the whores paid him,” Tyrion said with a wag of his eyebrows.

“Is that even possible?” Jaime asked.

Brienne frowned at Podrick. “Really? I’d have thought better of you, at least, Podrick.”

“Yes, Ser. But I was Lord Tyrion’s squire, at the time. And the whores didn’t pay me. They just didn’t take payment,” Pod clarified earnestly.

The table burst into laughter at that, even Brienne.

Jaime raised his cup, “I give you Podrick Payne, Hero of the Whores!”

“Ladykiller of the Landing!” Tyrion called, pounding the table. Brienne raised a cup in spite of her blush as she and Jaime stomped their feet.

After a moment, Brienne guffawed at a thought, then hissed, “Squire of Sex!” in a loud whisper. This set the table off into wild laughter, both at the thought and at the rosy pink blush that had come to Brienne’s cheeks at even daring to join in on taking the piss out of the men as an equal and friend.

When they calmed down, Tyrion nodded to Brienne over his cup. “Careful, or we’ll have to start calling you Ser Brienne of Tart.”

“Never!” Jaime said with an inebriated grin. “It’s the Sapphire Island because all the men have blue balls!”

Brienne frowned at Jaime, her scowl making Pod suck in a breath and Tyrion give a drunken titter. Then her face formed itself into a determined glower, and she said, “Maybe the blue balls were just for you, Kingslayer?”

Jaime’s face fell, and Tyrion gave a great belly laugh such as he hadn’t had cause to let out since Robert Baratheon’s fat ass sat on the Iron Throne. Pod patted her on the back once she broke into a wide grin, and even Jaime raised a sheepish cup to her.

She stood, smirking in triumph and said, slamming her drink down on the table, “I have to piss!”

Tormund Giantsbane, who had been waiting for his moment, stepped up to her saying, “We did it! We faced those icy fucks, looked right in their blue eyes and here we are,” he took a deep breath and let his lusty gaze look Brienne up and down. Then he said, “Pray I don’t find out which one of you cowards shit in my pants!”His serious face turning into a mad laugh.

Brienne’s earlier bravado shrunk a bit at Tormund’s scatological humor. “Please pardon me, for a moment,” she said with just a touch of disdain, and moved around his large bulk. Tormund blinked in surprise, wobbling in his cups before he made a move to follow her, only to find his way blocked by a standing Jaime Lannister.

The two men looked at each other, Jaime giving a small shake of his head and patting Tormund on the shoulder before turning and walking off after the tall blond knight. Tormund’s face fell and he stumbled away from the table, undoubtedly to drown his sorrows.

Brienne had observed the interaction over her shoulder, but when she saw Jaime turn, she startled as if by a lion’s roar, walking away quickly until she was safe behind her own bedroom door.

She went about her business, afterwards finding that someone or other of the remaining servants had also left a full wash tub near the fireplace and a kettle on the coals. Before the preparations for the Long Night, a full wash tub waiting for her in her rooms had been a usual occurrence, a perk of being the personal guard of the Lady of Winterfell.It was a clue that life would begin again, fall back into some of the usual routines. Brienne took in a deep breath at the thought, after so much death.

As usual, all she had to do was tend the kettle and heat the bath. Her fire she’d seen to before she left for dinner, so the kettle would be hot. She laid her sword out on the table, cleaning tools to the side, then retrieved her sleeping shift from her things and mostly disrobed. She quickly cleaned her leather armoring clothes then checked the kettle. The tub was not large - just enough for her to sit in but not stretch out - she judged it to be hot enough for a quick bath. She poured the water from the kettle into the tub, warming it enough for a bath. She refilled the kettle and placed it on the coals.

She didn’t always like bathing. Not because she didn’t like to be clean, but because she didn’t like to be reminded of her body - not enough to be a man, too much to be a lady. This night it didn’t bother her. She was a Knight of the Seven Kingdoms, a survivor of the Long Night. That night, this night, and every night ever after, her body would make her proud.Still, she washed quickly, before the water or the air cooled.

She was already in her long, dark blue sleeping shift, hair drying, when she heard the knock at her door. A half smile flit across her face before she took better controlled of her features.

***

Jamie followed Brienne, but got lost in the labyrinth of halls that was the living quarters of Winterfell. Finally he gave up and asked a serving woman where Ser Brienne’s rooms would be.

“Oh, ser, she’s not ‘ere in the guest quarters. She’s a room in the family wing - Lady Sansa insisted when they first arrived,” she said with a suspicious grin.

Jaime was, if not the Golden Lion, still a fine man. He gave her a flirtatious smile, hoping to sway her to his service. “Would you show me the way?” he asked politely.

“A’ course, ser,” she said, but then hesitated. “Wait a moment, if you please? I have to fetch something.”

Jaime gave her a small bow. “Whenever you’re ready.”

In a moment she returned carrying two pewter cups and a covered pitcher. She shoved them into Jaime’s half-capable grasp. “You’ll be wantin’ this, it’s from Dorn.”Then she waved him to follow her, unfurling the maze easily. She stopped at a junction, gesturing down the hall. “Her room’s just up there, on the right. Now, be good, Lannister. Soft-hearted she is. Mus’ be, to see what’s good in you.”

“Yes, ma’am,” was all he could think to say.She left him standing there. What a place, the North. They really made you earn it.

He paled as he walked toward her room. At the door, he almost turned away. Maybe she would be sleeping - passed out from all the wine. He leaned against the doorway, trying to calm himself, but his hand seemed to move on it’s own to knock at her door. Had he earned it?

***

She opened her door. Jaime’s golden hand tucked two pewter cups against his chest, his good left hand carried a large pitcher of something. His expression - confused, vulnerable - the same as it had been when he'd lost his hand.

At the sight of her he collected himself to ask, “You - are you - are you truly the Maid of Tarth?”

“What?” she asked, taken aback. He walked past her into the room, now more himself, to set the pitcher down and then the cups. She closed the door, walked away from the chill and back to the fire.

Jaime didn’t turn to look at her, instead he seemed to be staring at the bed across the room. He didn’t turn around. Softly, slowly, he said, “Maid of Tarth - so - are you?”

She took in an exasperated breath at his teasing. “You know I am the Maid of Tarth, Kingslayer, don’t be stupid.” Battle was easier than a conversation with this man. She shuffled her feet. What did he want? What did she want? She broke the silence. “This isn’t a game anymore, Jaime. This is just drinking.”

He turned around casually and poured the wine, a tremor in his hand causing him to spill a little. “Good, because this is Dornish. Took forever to find it,” he said as he handed her a cup. “This will be worth it.”

Finally he looked at her. Again, he had that bare, anguished expression. He was about to say something when his eyes flit to the side. “Is that a bath?” he asked. “Even a lukewarm bath would be welcome up here.”

Brienne looked down before she answered, shaking her head as if to wake herself up. “It is a bath, obviously. I’ve used the water, though.”

He started forward, “It’s not like we haven't shared bath water before.”

That had, perhaps, been their most intimate moment, the moment he shared his deepest secret with her before falling naked into her arms, nearly dead.

Brienne gestured to the tub. “You may use the bath, but I'm not leaving my own room, Lannister.”

“There's no need,” he said, starting to unfasten his jacket, amused with his brassy friend. “We’ve seen each other naked before.”He kicked off his boots, then began taking off his jerkin and other clothes. “You do keep it warm enough in here,” he said distractedly.

“First thing I learned in the North: always keep the fire going,” she said. Brienne started caring for her sword, but stopped to watch him battle with his clothes. The jerkin got caught on his hand, but a few tugs saw it slide over the golden appendage. Still, what grace he had was lost in the process. So to did the difficulty he had trying to untie his shirt collar one handed make the knight seem awkward. His struggles reminded her how he’d gotten the hand, and it made her cheeks burn with embarrassment for them both.

“Ugh, move aside,” she said, untangling the knot and helping him pull his shirt up over his head, jerking his sleeve over the unmoving hand. She loosened his pants too, before he could object. Then she moved away, putting the little table between them and busying herself with her sword, Oathkeeper, the sword that should have been his, but was now hers, his gift to her. “Better get in the water. Another thing I learned in the North - never keep a bath waiting,” she said without looking up from her task.

He turned his back to her and undressed, setting his hand down on the table before climbing into the bath. Once he was settled in he said, “The first and second things I learned when I came to the North was that I hated the North.” He shifted in the water, keeping his right arm inside the tub. “Is there any more hot water?”

“I left some in the kettle. I can pour it in for you,” she said and moved to the fire. “As for the North, it grows on you,” she said as she poured the rest of the water into the tub.

Jaime hissed at the temperature change, swirling the water to blend it better. “I wouldn’t want anything growing on me,” he said, quickly washing as she set the kettle down and stoked the fire. Looking at the coals, she decided to add more wood.

Jaime stopped for a moment to gape at her there in her blue linen nightshirt, the firelight showing him her dark silhouette underneath as strong and lean. “What about Tormund Giantsbane? Has he grown on you?” He rinsed the soap out of his hair, sputtering. “He was quite sad when you left the room.”

She finished poking the logs and stood to lean the fork against the hearth. She turned to him, looked at him. “You sound quite jealous,” she said.

He blinked. “I do, don’t I,” he said. “And now the water is too hot.”

She stepped closer and touched the water. “It’s perfect. Stop being such a baby.”

“And the bloody air,” he said. “Stoking the fire, how diligent of you. And responsible.”

“Piss off,” she said and stalked past the tub as if to leave.

Jamie caught her wrist with his left hand, “No, don’t, please. I was only teasing.” He let her go. “Can I get a towel?”

She finished putting her sword away. Only then she did throw him a towel, which hit him in the back of the head. Afterwards she poured herself a cup of wine and sat down on the bench nearest the fire, looking down into her cup. Jaime stood with his back to her and stepped out of the tub to dry himself near the fire.

“Maybe I should be glad it’s hot in here,” he said. He kept his arm tucked up against his body so that she couldn’t see the ruin of his right hand.

Brienne couldn’t help but watch him while he had his back to her. He’d put on weight - muscle mostly, since the last time she’d seen him naked. Good food, training, and rest had him looking mostly god and no corpse. He wrapped the towel around his waist and she looked down. Then he picked up his own cup and sat on the other end of her bench, facing out and hiding his right arm away so that she couldn’t see it as he drank. They didn’t say anything.

When he picked up the golden hand to put it back on she said, “No, wait. Don’t bother with that.”

He looked at her confusedly. 

She shrugged. “That thing looks uncomfortable,” she commented.

Nodding, he turned toward her and rested his arm on the table. “Qyburn managed to save most of it.”

She turned toward him. She placed her hand over his arm, close to, but not touching the end. “I’ve fought with you, next to you. You’re still you, no matter what your arm looks like.”

There it was again, that plaintive look. Brienne slid her hand away, but Jaime reached out for the collar of her nightshirt. He started to undo the lacing at the neck with his left hand.

“What - what are you doing?” she asked, wanting to be sure.

“I’m trying to get you out of that shirt,” he said, taking his hand away.

She bit her lip a little, then pulled the laces apart and shimmied out of the top herself so that the shirt pooled around her waist. So far, they were both bare from the waist up.

“I - I’ve never slept with a knight before,” he murmured, looking her in the eye. It had been intended as a joke, but the hitch in his voice made it something else.

Brienne let her gaze fall, his beauty meaning far less to her than those word. She looked back at him, “Neither have I, knight nor man,” she whispered.

They kissed, the pent up emotions between them making it a little awkward. She pulled him to her, as his good hand ran up and into her hair. They sat like that, kissing, for some time, hands roving bare chests, backs, stomachs. Eventually, Jaime tweaked a puffy nipple, eliciting a sharp sound from her. She did it right back to him. He grunted and pulled her closer.

“Should we,” Brienne whispered against his lips, “should we maybe take this to the bed?”

“Mmm, a bed. We’ve never been in a bed together before - cages, horseback, bear pits, piles of the walking dead,” his voice trailed off. “But never a bed.”

There it was - that tender look she’d seen before. She stood, allowing the night shirt to fall from her slim hips. She stood up straight, as she usually did, waiting. He stood, too, leaving the towel on the bench, and went to her to kiss her, pulling her down to meet him, and she stooped to allow it. She moved them both toward the bed, Jaime hitting it first and falling back into the furs with Brienne on top of him.

“Ooph,” he exhaled as they landed. They rolled to their sides, kissing. He pinched her nipple again and she wrestled him to his back, pinning him to the bed with her body. “What? Do you not like that? Because you seem to like that,” he said.

She scowled. “No, I do like that. I just don’t know what to do back, other than fight. I know how this works, in theory,” she said, shifting her weight from knee to knee. “And you seem - ready enough. Let’s just do it.”

“If we do it like that, it will probably hurt,” he said gently.

“Why do people do it if it hurts? I’ve never heard about it being painful,” she said with a disgusted look. “Men are always on about how good it feels.”

“For you. It could be painful for you, at first, if we go too fast,” he said.

She let his arms go and sat up. She watched him run his hand over the firm muscles of her tummy, and up to her puffed up points, the small half smile he got when pleased lurking at the corner of his mouth.

“How would you know?” she wondered.

“Men talk. Women too,” he said, messaging the one in the arch between finger and thumb.She hissed a breath but didn’t move. “I thought you trusted me?”

“Maybe,” she said, leaning her chest into his hand, the nipple being the only difference she could see between his chest hand hers, aside from his chest hair. “That feels good.”

He lifted her other hand with his stub. “You can touch yourself, and me, when you want.”

She placed her hand on her other breast - nipple - as he did. Gods, that did feel good. “Ah-alright, I see. What else?”

Jaime leaned up on his elbow, “Don’t strangle me, yes?”

She nodded down at him. He sat up more and hooked his hand under her arm, using some strength to wrestle her onto her back. He moved to her left side, and kissed her. They were getting better at that, less floundering but no less ardent.

She enjoyed the feeling of his hand, his weight, pressing on the taught muscles of her torso, then lower onto her mound. She fought with herself not to flinch, though she did stiffen. Jaime stopped, but left his hand there, until she said, “I won’t strangle you. Go on.”

He nodded and moved lower, teasing her blond hair, pressing along her sex; it felt odd, but good. Two of his fingers began rubbing just above her opening, a spot she had noticed before, but had never attended to herself. She let her legs fall farther apart, eventually bending a knee and pushing against his hand.

His finger seemed to be sliding more freely, as they moved, she noticed. She moved the hand nearest him and brushed against his - hardness. She ran her finger tips along it to it’s base, then gripped it, though loosely.

“That’s it,” he hissed. “Just like a sword. Tight, but not too tight,” he said, pushing his hips against her.She let out an amused breath as he gasped a little in pleasure at her touch. She let him go.

“Think that was funny did you?” he said, sliding his first finger into her sex, just a little, and pushing up.

“Yes,” she hissed. “Do that again!”

He slid the length of his finger into her, in and out slowly; she quivered, feeling something inside of her for the first time.

He kissed her. “I think years of horse riding has made this easier,” he whispered against her cheek. He moved his hand again, this time with two fingers at her opening. He teased her, hesitating.

“Show me,” she said, running her hand down his left arm and tugging at his elbow. She arched her hips into his hand as he pushed two fingers into her, his thumb now rubbing that space that brought her so much pleasure.

After a few strokes, something seemed to tighten inside her, and she ran her hand to Jaime’s hair, “What? Wha-“

“Just let go,” he whispered as they gazed at each other. The moment seemed to draw itself out, and her breath held until it exploded out of her.

He kissed her as she came back down, then relaxed into the pillows. She wiped her hand over her face, feeling her hot cheeks. She covered her mouth and looked over at Jaime, laughing even as she caught her breath. “Now I see what all the fuss is about.”

He smiled at her, the real one. “That was only the half of it,” he said.

She turned toward him, “What’s the other half?”

He took her hand and placed it over his sex. Brienne explored a little, surprised at the little sounds that he made as she touched him, at the marvelous velvety hardness that hung so fiercely from her friend. She liked making him make those sounds, hoped he was feeling as good a she had felt at his touch.

He rolled to his back, “When you're ready - it’s kind of like riding a horse. This way you’ll be in control and you’ll be fine.”

She bent down to kiss him, just as he’d been showing her, but then rolled them both so that he was on top. “I trust you,” she said. “I - I’d like to try it like this, if we can.”

He nodded, looking a little surprised. He shifted a little, as she did, so that he moved more between her legs. He kissed her nipples. Then he laved his tongue over one of her engorged buttons, sucking a bit when she moaned and pressed his head against them. He kept this up as long as she allowed.

Finally she pulled him higher to kiss her, their bodies coming into alignment. She felt him rub his cockhead along her entrance, just as he had with his fingers.

His expression asked a question, and she nodded. He pushed firmly against her opening, which was swollen and slippery. Her body tensed under him, but he whispered, “Brienne, look at me, just look at me.”

She looked up at him, his handsome green eyes and fine lips so close. She bit her lip, but as his face showed his pleasure plainly, she relaxed, raised her knees and legs to give him more play. She liked the feeling, fullness, his fullness, seeming to meld into her. He moved so unhurriedly she almost didn’t realize when he was fully against her, inside her.She’d had more pain in battle, or after a long day’s ride. His coming into her was more of a - needful strain.

She kissed him and he moved again, sliding out a little and then back in, making her gasp. “Umph,” she expressed softly, then murmured, “More, more of this.”

Jaime gave her a nod and began moving, setting a gentle rhythm at first. She moved against him, fumbling to catch on to his actions. Gods, it was rather like horse riding. Eventually she caught on to his signals and how to give him clues to her own desires, faster, more forceful, his harsher breathing and soft groans sparking her own. In battle, they’d been back to back or side to side, always aware of where the other was, of how to move to strike at the enemy or move out of the other’s way, or come to the other’s rescue.

Face to face, with him inside her, she realized, held few differences. She knew him, her body knew him. She knew his body and movements. She grasped his firm buttocks and pulled him in harder, her thigh muscles holding him close. He changed his angle, thrust himself against her and inside her harder. Soon this set her into a breathy cry, as she felt the length of him inside of her and clenched down on him, her eyes growing wider as his cries of pleasure joined hers. His eyes tried to close, but he didn’t let them, even as she felt him pumping inside her. They continued rocking together, kissing through little tremors and aftershocks.

Jaime let himself fall to the side once he’d slipped out of her. Brienne rolled toward him and brushed his hair out of his face. He caught her hand and kissed it.

“Not bad, for a knight,” he said.

“Hmm, yes. Now I understand why knights do this so much.”

Jaime kissed her hand again and got up, going to the fire and putting on some more wood while also banking the coals. When he came back they slipped under the blankets and furs. He said, “You may be right, ser. Keep the fire going and the North is not so terrible. This place may just be growing on me.”

“Well, ser, you might think about staying to find out. Just for argument’s sake.”

Laying on their sides, naked, there wasn’t much difference in their bodies - height, hair color, musculature. Still, they just looked at each other, smiling.

Later, Jaime lay on his back, face neutral, staring up at the ceiling. The knuckles of his left hand traced Brienne’s taut bottom as she lay on her side, facing away from him, half asleep from their latest exertions, this time more athletic though no less poignant.

“Aren’t you worried I’m up to no good? That I’m teasing you? Using you for some nefarious purpose?” he said into the dim light of the room.

Brienne didn’t turn over, but she did rouse. “Of all the terrible things I’ve ever heard about you, Jaime Lannister, your being a cocksman is not one of them. You always tease me. You like it when I answer back. Whatever this is, it’s not just about sex.”

He rolled toward her, snuggled up behind her before he whispered, “You know, my brother is right. You are Brienne of Tart.”

***


	2. Trials of Friendship

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Morning comes for Brienne and Jaime, but what does that mean?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew. Wrote this super fast because in a perfect world I'd get all three out before tonight's episode, but I don't think I'll be able to - it's all up in my head though. Drove my husband coo-coo rewatching for text evidence.
> 
> I wish I'd read the books. I think I could get their POVs down better with access to their thinking...So, this is my version.
> 
> For Brienne, I'm trying to pack in as much Jaime time as I can - sweet and hot as hell if these days/weeks are all she gets of him. Dunno what the night will bring, but I want her happy! (And our voyeurs, too)

***

Jaime woke in the morning light alone in the bed. Brienne was back in her nightshirt, stoking the fire. It made him smile. “Good morning, ser,” he said.

Brienne started, dropping the poker to the floor. “Good morning,” she said hastily as she righted the tool, making sure it was on the hook at the hearth. “I have my duties, but you can sleep, if you choose.”

Sleep would be a welcome escape, but it was useless. “No, I don’t sleep well, anymore. Even with last night’s festivities,” he sat up. “Is there any water?”

Brienne gestured to the clay pitcher on the table. She was not a person for small talk, but this was quiet even for her. Jaime got out of bed and walked across the room as she laid out her clothes. He drank, then grabbed her around the waste, pulling her to him. “Are you all right? You haven’t looked at me, and you always look at me, especially when I am naked.”

She blushed from her chest past her freckles and up into her blond hair. “No I don’t!”

He put his hand up and pulled her face down to look at him, his right forearm still holding her close, though the couple of inches difference in their heights did put him at a little disadvantage. “It’s alright,” he said, going to the balls of his feet to give her a swift kiss. “I like that you look.”

Slowly, she placed her hands on his shoulders. “Last night,” she managed.

Their gazes met, and Jaime felt a little wobble in his chest. She might have thought better of this, in the daylight.

“Oh, no need for that face,” she said. “Last night was wonderful. I - I don’t know”

“Shh,” he said. “Forget everything I ever said about you needing to be chattier.”

They kissed, and he would have liked another round of bedplay, but she said, “I do have to meet with Lady Sansa.”

They both dressed. Jaime realized he had nowhere to go and nothing to do. It was an odd feeling, one he wasn’t sure he wanted as a regular part of his life - it reminded him a little too much of the day his own son told him he was irrelevant to the King’s Guard, the little shit.

Brienne was watching him fuss with the ties on his jerkin, but she didn’t step in. Instead she asked, “What will you do now?”

“What will *you* do now?” he asked back, teasing her for knowing him too well.

“I am sworn to Lady Sansa alone. I will remain here in Winterfell to protect her and do her bidding, even if the Northern armies march to King’s Landing. Will you follow your brother? You two - you were very funny together last night,” she said. “You are plainly very close.”

“I love Tyrion,” he said. “It has been good to be with him again after all these years. But I don’t think the Dragon Queen would like me that close to her.”

“You could stay here, with me,” she said quickly, as she fastened her belt and sheath around her waist.”

“I would need Lady Sansa’s permission for that,” he said. “Though, if you’re wondering, I would like to stay,” he said, relieved she asked him again.

“Come with me then. We can ask her first thing and then you can piss off to eat and practice in the yard. Gods know you need it,” she said, giving him that fake frown she got when she was teasing him back.

“Sounds good, ser,” he said with a small bow.

 

***

 

In the light of the fire in the empty tavern in Winterfell village, Jamie observed his brother take in the news he had just given him.

“So you’re staying here,” Tyrion said. “With Ser Brienne.”

“She is sworn to protect the Stark girl, so we stay here,” he said. So far Tyrion was just thinking it over, though it seemed his eyebrows were doing most of the work. Jaime couldn’t tell what Tyrion thought. He was almost sure it wouldn’t be good. “Go ahead, say something snide, I can take it,” he said with a sigh.

Tyrion’s eyebrows shot up, “I’m happy - I’m happy that you’re happy. It makes all of this worth it, if one of us finds some contentment in this life. One of us besides Cersei.”

Jaime smiled over his mug, thinking of Brienne. She wasn’t pretty, but he was pretty enough for both of them. She was passionate too, his match on the battlefield or in bed. More than that, she was good, truly good, what was best in a Knight of the Seven Kingdoms.

Tyrion sipped his ale. “Will you marry? You could go back to Casterly Rock and father giant sons and daughters for House Lannister. You’re still capable. I would approve, whole-heartedly.”

“Gods no!” Jaime said. “What is marriage for except castles and children and never ending litanies of problems and responsibilities. Brienne fought all her life to be a respected knight, and here, in Winterfell, she is just that. We share a bed. We are - together - why can’t that be enough?”

Tyrion waved a hand at him. “Fine, fine. Be happy - together,” he said with a smirk. “Finally, you’ll have to climb for it, which also makes me happy. Do you know how long I have waited to tell tall person jokes?”

Jaime laughed and smiled at his brother’s jest. He did have to climb for it, but she was worth it. He just shook his head at his brother.

Tyrion raised his mug, “To climbing mountains.”His words were humorous, but Jaime could see Tyrion was genuinely pleased for him.

“To climbing mountains,” Jaime returned quietly, raising his mug and clinking it with his brother’s. They drank in peaceful enjoyment.

Then Tyrion gave him a terrible grin. “So, what’s she like down there?” he asked.

“What?” he spat out, affronted by the question. “That is not your concern.” His fellow men, even his brother disappointed him. Questions like that were why Brienne was so quiet and defensive, and he found all of them outrageous.

“You misunderstand me, Brother,” Tyrion said, leaning in. “I haven’t been with a woman for years. Come on, give me a morsel. Something fresh to think about while I go about my business.”

“You’re a dog!” Jaime said in a clipped tone. Still he could see his brother was mostly kidding.

“I am the imp, and I demand to know!” he said, knocking on the table.

Jaime squirmed, irritated by how much his brother could get under his skin and make him laugh, both at once. He tried to think up a witty answer but came up blank, so he went with the truth. “Brienne is a woman to honor and treasure, not gossip about in a tavern with one’s brother. Now let it go, Imp.”

 

***

 

Jamie burst through Brienne’s door, not knowing what he would find; Bronn could have come here before the tavern, or even beat him back here, no matter how fast he rode. He knew his sister. Cersei would strike out in anyway she could to inflict pain. That crossbow in Bronn’s hands had put such a fear in him he could barely breathe - only his feelings about Myrcella’s safety had been stronger. He’d been unable to save his daughter, and that had gutted him. 

But there Brienne stood in a robe and nightshirt poking at the fire. He almost laughed at the sturdy predictability of her.

She nodded at him. “I was worried, until I saw your things here,” she said.

He locked the door behind him before walking into the room, stopping at the pegs to take off his cloak and kick off his boots. “I’m sorry. I was having a drink with Tyrion. I told him about us, why I wasn’t marching with the army. That I would be staying here with you.”

She pulled her robe tighter around her. “What did he say?” Her lower lip pouted out a little bit.

He felt the wobble in his chest again, her face was so easy to read. She could damn the whole world, and still have chinks in her armor, important people whose opinions mattered to her. She was worried about what his brother Tyrion would think, just as she had been worried about what Sansa would think - especially given his history with her in the capital. Lady Sansa had given him a look that would curdle milk, but had invited him to stay, carefully pointing out how important Ser Brienne was to Winterfell. Those that knew Brienne properly loved her and would protect her, he well knew. Besides, if he was being honest, Lady Sansa’s disdain was well earned.

He went to Brienne, crowding her back against the wall near the hearth. “Tyrion is happy that we are happy,” he said, kissing her neck. “We have his blessing, so don’t worry about him anymore.”He slipped his hand inside the robe and abraded her little nipples against the coarse linen, switching one from the other.

Her chest flushed.She twisted out of her robe and started pulling at Jaime’s clothes. He helped undress himself as best he could, and when he was finally naked he pulled Brienne’s nightshirt up over her head. He looked at her, then stooped to lick her puffy peaks. They excited him, mostly because they seemed to please her so much. He moved down her body, kissing as he went, until he was on his knees. He skimmed his hand over her muscular legs and taut tummy, ran it over her blond mound.

See eyed him, kneeling before her. “What are you doing, ser?”

“I’m going to kiss you, ser, and you’re going to like it,” he answered. Stroking her mound, he murmured, “I’m going to kiss you here.”

She drew a muscular thigh over the other and covered herself. “Why?”

“Have I been wrong yet?” he asked before kissing her thigh, then licking up the crease between thigh and torso.

“Hmm,” she hissed, and leaned back against the wall, opening her stance.

He made eye contact with her noticing the big, beautiful blue eyes that at their first meeting judged him and then accepted him. As his tongue made its first pass, her knees buckled a little, so he used his stump arm to push her against the wall, leaving his other free to give her pleasure. And please her he did, with tongue and fingers, splitting her swollen sex to find her center. Her noises, her body, they were so easy to read; she made pleasing her so simple for him. As he knelt there, his senses full of her, he prayed to the gods that this would never change, because in other ways he wasn’t sure he was enough for her.

She squeezed his shoulder. “Stand up,” she said. “I want you here.”

As he rose she wrapped a long leg around him, and reached down between them to guide him into her. They kissed, joining easily, for once the height difference working in their favor. He put his hand up against the wall, leaned into her. Given their strength and stamina, this position was going to last a long time. In this way she was effortless, even as she challenged his sense of honor, his sense of justice, of knighthood - even what it meant to be a man. He relished the chance to not go away in his head, but be rooted here, in this place, in this woman, as long as his body and hers would allow.

 

***

 

“So what about this sellword has you so worried,” Brienne asked later, lying next to him in her bed.

“He’s now Ser Bronn, knighted by Joffrey for his service at the Battle of the Blackwater. Either way, he’s an unforgiving bastard, and he will do what he says. My family has broken our word to him several times. He is out for himself now, so it doesn’t matter to him who wins or loses, he is playing both sides. As he should.”

She lightly brushed a finger back and forth over the end of his stump as it lay between them. “What makes you think so?”

“I watched Tyrion try the old ‘we need a general’ trick on Bronn - again - when Bronn knows all of our tricks. If he ends up dead he doesn’t get paid. It was an arrogant mistake and I can’t believe Tyrion made it. My brother is clever, but I worry he’s not ruthless enough to win against the likes ofBronn, much less Cersei. Tyrion, it seems, prefers to find an arrangement, rather than a final solution.”

He rubbed his thumb over her bottom lip. “Promise me you’ll be careful when you’re out of the castle, and that you’ll mind the gate for him. That crossbow is a dangerous weapon. If it were me, I’d find him and kill him before he has a chance to make good on any of his promises, to Cersei or to us. Perhaps I will, if Sansa has no tasks for me.”

“You can’t mean that,” she said. “He was your friend, he served you well. And you did mislead him, or at least didn’t make good on your word after that dragon attacked. Has he truly earned such an execution?”

“Sweet innocence, people rarely get what they deserve, for either good or bad behavior. I certainly haven’t. His death is necessary to keep everyone safe,” he said, but sensing her opinion of his words he added, “Or at least what might be necessary. If he doesn’t show himself, I suppose we only really need to take a few precautions.”

Brienne nodded. “You feel he is dangerous, so I’ll go over his description and that of the crossbow with the remaining guards tomorrow.”

“Thank you, for listening to me. Bronn knows about you and I, and he’s always thought we were too familiar. It worries me that he knows, because now I don’t know if my sister knows.”

He saw her lower lip tense. “How so?”

“Because, ser. A ruthless man aims where it would hurt, at best kill his enemy. My sister aims to maim, cripple, and keep you alive to do it all over again. If any harm came to you through her,” he stopped. “I know you can handle yourself, but she’d probably use poison. She’s done it before.”

Brienne cuddled up next to him “For you, I’m willing to take the risk,” she said with a kiss. “Now can we please stop talking of your hateful sister? She makes me jealous.”

“You? Jealous?” he said, squeezing her to him. “I’d ravish you to prove there’s nothing to be jealous of, but you’ve exhausted me, ser.” And there it was, that smile, that beam just for him. He’d first seen it when he’d knighted her, then watched her come into it as she rode him to her pleasure. It made him miserable and the happiest of men at once.

 

***

 

Jaime started up out of a deep sleep, his mind racing and Bronn’s words haunting him - _It mus’ be like lookin’ ina fuckin’ mirror._ It the midst of his love-making with Brienne, Jaime had thought it was hard to tell whose was what sometimes. Her hair was lighter than his, but not everywhere. She was as strong as he, as good a sword swinger as he had ever been. Their stride was close, when they walked together. Their swords were even forged out of the same metal - the Stark’s ancestral greatsword _Ice_ , as was. What was more, she knew him - his moods, his actions. The Battle of Winterfell had been terrifying, but also like a dance with each of them knowing their parts. And the sex - well, it couldn’t be like that for everybody, could it?

 _Like a fucking mirror._

He lay back down, sweaty even in the slight chill of the room. But that was just it: Brienne was his better. She was a true knight, something his past would never let him become. Her influence made him a better man, he knew, but he wasn’t sure he could be as brave and just and honorable as her, or as she would need him to be. In truth, part of him didn’t want to be.There were many kinds of bravery, justice, and honor, and some could get you killed; he would never be able to be a man like Eddard Stark. The Lannister words should be ‘ _Ruthless to a Fault,’_ not _‘Hear Us Roar._ ’ There was a bloody song written about just how vengeful his father could be.

His only comfort was what Bronn had said about the dragons. Even with the losses from the Long Night, two dragons certainly tipped the scales against his sister. He’d very nearly been roasted on the Roseroad by the Dragon Queen herself, but Bronn had saved him.

Bronn. The man saved his life, but Jaime knew that if he saw Bronn again before the end of the war he’d kill him where he stood. What kind of knight, what kind of brave, just, honorable knight does that?

“Jaime, stop it,” Brienne murmured sleepily. “You’re thinking so loud I can almost hear you.” She rolled next him and pulled him to her front. “None of this is simple. We both need our rest to do what we can for the people we protect. For the people we love.”

“Yes, ser,” and this time he did manage sleep.

*** 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ***
> 
> IMHO, and for the record - Jamie isn't the best of men, or a true knight, but sometimes, the ruthless knight is the one you need. 
> 
> I WILL still finish my version, no matter what happens, because that crap writing isn't going to fix itself.


	3. Atonement

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will Jaime truly be able to put the past aside?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This, for me, was what was lacking in the Episode, but I'll forgive the writers a little (a very little). Brevity means a lot must be inferred, and I think viewers - and especially these characters - were owed more. Hence this whole piece. There would have been three or four weeks from the army leaving to Dany's arrival at Dragonstone. Brienne and Jaime would have had some time together.
> 
> I am content with the choices Jaime makes - not happy but at least I understand. GRRM famously subverts the hero's journey in his work. To me that just ends in nihilism - thanks, but the real world is bad enough I don't need it in my fantasy. But, refusing the return is also a part of a journey. 
> 
> Jaime could love any monster - except himself.

***

 

“Are you happy here, Ser Jaime?” Lady Sansa asked, some mornings after Queen Daenerys and the Northern Armies had left for Dragonstone and King’s Landing.

Jamie had come to see if she had any tasks for him. He had agreed to do this when receiving permission to stay at Winterfell. It was becoming a heavier price than he had anticipated.Usually he worked with the master at arms to train the new men for the castle guard or accompanied Brienne about some business for Lady Sansa, but only trivial things. A few times she had trotted him out to the countryside to deal with a cow or a barn or some other smallfolk drudgery. The people had always irritated him.

But he was content, nevertheless, so he made his face a polite smile and answered her question. “Of course, Lady Sansa. Our Houses haven't always been friends, but you and I do not have to follow worn paths. You were once my sister by marriage. The winter has come. We must see to the needs of the people going forward,” he said with bow.

“We are agreed,” she said, smiling at him. “Which is why you will be touring Winter town today, checking on the smallfolk with the maester, and to make plans for cleaning up after the armies. You are one of the heroes of the battle of Winterfell, the people will appreciate your interest. The Great Houses united in peace sets the right tone, especially with what will soon happen in the capital.”

“I thank you, for the confidence. I shall be the hero the people expect,” he replied.

She brushed her hair back off of her shoulders. “Perhaps I should apologize, Ser Jaime. When you first asked for harbor here at Winterfell, I doubted your intentions towards my house and my people. However, you have been honorable in your actions since you’ve been here. Brienne had confidence in you, vouched for you. She doesn't give her love or loyalty lightly.” She sighed before she said, “In quiet moments I worry I take advantage of her goodness and loyalty.I owe her my life. So I do my best to honor her struggles as a female soldier, and now knight, here in Westeros.”

Sansa’s eyes gave the illusion of sadness, but they really weren’t, Jaime noticed. “I also owe her my life, Lady Sansa,” Jaime replied. The young woman had spent too much time with Tyrion and Cersei both. He hoped she had their better parts. Either way, the truth was safest. “She was my will to live, when I thought my life was worthless. Hers is the faithful council that never waivers from what is right. Her actions are sometimes stupidly brave but always admirable,” he said. Then he looked the shrewd young woman in the eye.“Knighting Ser Brienne was the honor of my life,” he said, putting a slight emphasis on the first word.

She blushed a little and seemed genuinely surprised at his words before she replied, “Well said, Ser. Well said.”

“If you'll excuse me, my lady, I should meet with the Maester to see about our ride to winter town.”

“Very good.”

Jaime rested his hand on the hilt of Widow’s Wail as he walked out the door. Today he hated the North. They always made you earn it.

 

***

 

“Stop, just stop,” Brienne said, as she tried to catch her breath. “I can’t take it anymore.”

“What, have I worn you out?” Jaime said, his chest heaving.

Brienne shook her head. “I am not tired, ser. But your grip is making my wrist hurt. And the thumb,” she said. “Watch the thumb.”

He scowled at her and fixed his grip. “There, are you happy now?”  
  
She shrugged her shoulders. “That’s better. Now maybe I’ll be able to feel it when you hit me,” she said, unable to stop herself from smiling.

Jamie tapped the flat of the practice blade against his leg. It was something he did when he was particularly provoked by her. “You try it left handed, ser. I’ve only been at this a few years, compared to the thirty-odd before it.”

He was deliciously irritated with her. It was the best part of her day, their sparring. She turned her back to him, blushing. Maybe the second best part of her day. She switched her sword to her left hand. “Alright then, Jaime. Let’s get to it.”

They began to spar. Forwards, backwards, parry - thrust. They ranged the yard, circling, clashing, repositioning, attacking again. They went at this for half an hour before they finally came to a draw and broke off, laughing. Single combat on a field of war seldom lasted that long.

The clapping of the Stark men surprised her. “Ser Brienne of Tarth,” the Stark master of arms said, “And Ser Jaime Lannister. That was some of the best sword play I’ve seen, given its with your off-hands. Too bad neither of you wanted to win. We should put it in the training though. Never know when an injury will come.”

Jaime squinted at her, brushing his hair from his eyes. “She beat me. I yield knowing you’ll like seeing a Lannister bested.”

“No, Ser,” the older man said. “Battle makes strange bedfellows. You shed blood with us when you need not and you’ve stayed under our Lady’s protection, estranged from your House. You’ve done good here, since the army left. You’re a smug bastard, sure, but you’re not lazy. Not a man left in Winterfell wouldn’t fight beside you, nor Ser Brienne neither. _The North Remembers_ doesn’t mean jus’ the bad, Ser Jaime,” the older man said. “Do not waste your chance.”

Brienne could see Jaime, for once, had no words. No matter how many times he was offered absolution, he seemed unable to accept it’s grace. She answered for him. “Thank you, ser. We both appreciate your compliment and your welcome.”

The master nodded, then he and the others left to go about other business. Brienne chanced a glance at Jaime. He seemed ready enough. “Come now, ser, I believe we made a wager, and you’ve just yielded,” she said.

“Go again?” he asked. “I’ll double our agreement. And let’s use real blades this time. I'd like to feel that edge of panic.”

She took it back. This was the best part of her day.

 

***

 

In the hall after the evening meal, Jaime kissed Brienne on the cheek and went to take his usual wander on the wall walk. “Would you like to come with me?” he asked politely.

She brushed the hair out of his eyes. “No, you go ahead. I wanted to go to the library and then just return to our room.”

“Don’t fall asleep?” he said as he stepped away. “I owe you double.” She felt herself blush and he grinned wider.

She talked with the others at the table, finishing her wine. Then she did go back to their room. She went with him only once, the night after the army left. He had not said a word during their tour, and at the front of the keep he stopped and looked to the south. She knew what it meant. He was looking at home. She understood, but didn’t want to watch.

So these many nights, usually just after dark or a little later, they parted for a short while. Brienne would use the time to think about their travels, about that Jaime and this Jaime. This Jaime that had left his Queen and love and nearly walked into his own execution because she had upbraided him about his duty to the living. This Jaime that asked to fight at her side, who charged his way into her bed, probably with as little serious thought as when he’d ridden into Winterfell alone. This sincere and committed Jaime, her friend, the only man other than her father that she gave a damn about. She usually didn’t go much farther than that, with her thoughts. It wasn’t wise. Instead she thought about waking and finding him gone, of the space at her back that would go unguarded, of the lure of the South. One could never have enough practice, defending one’s self.

She thought of these things as she went about her evening habits until she heard his step in the hall.She thought about none of these things the moment he was again in her arms and inside her body.

 

***

 

Jaime stalked across the courtyard, generally bothered by yet another day among the smallfolk in winter town, no matter how gracious they had been to him. In fact, it made him feel worse, the grudging respect the whole of the North seemed to show him these days. Eddard had been a pillar of honor. Robb had bested him at tactics. Jon Snow, a bastard of the North, was a prodigy at leadership and inspiring allegiance. He could have no confidence in the earnest acceptance they gave the kingslayer from the South. It felt like they were mocking him.

Then he saw the maester walking away from Lady Sansa and Ser Brienne. Sansa was reading a raven scroll. As she read it she started to walk into a more private courtyard, Brienne at her heel. Jaime followed, needing to know what it said. It was too early for them to have made a move on King’s Landing. He followed them, his cape billowing in his wake.

Lady Sansa’s gaze waited for him, even as she spoke in a low voice with Brienne. He couldn’t quite make out what she said, but also didn’t try. He would be told what he needed to know. Sansa would make sure of it.“What happened?” he asked.

He looked between Sansa and Brienne, who was expressionless. His chest wobbled. He didn’t like Brienne feeling - that. Sansa nodded to Brienne. She straightened to give the news, brows furrowed.

“Euron Greyjoy ambushed Queen Daenerys and her fleet. One of the dragons was killed, several ships destroyed, Missandei captured,” Brienne said. In his head, Jaime heard it, the song that had woken him out of his sleep most nights.

Brienne wouldn’t look at him. 

Lady Sansa gave a small smile, a hitch of her cheek really. “I always wanted to be there when they execute your sister. Now I guess I won’t get the chance,” she said to him. Then she turned and walked away.

Brienne turned to watch the young woman as if she’d never known the Lady capable of such malice.

It was a slip of the knife Cersei would have been proud to deliver herself. Jaime closed his eyes for a moment - it was too much. It was a show of Lannister ruthlessness. The Dragon Queen would sack the city, without a doubt. There would be no hope of surrender.

“I must go after Lady Sansa,” Brienne said when he opened his eyes.

Jaime only nodded before Brienne turned and walked in to the keep.

 

***

 

Neither of them ate much at dinner, and neither wanted to join in the discussions about this recent news. Jaime took Brienne’s hand and pulled her from the hall.

“Aren’t you going for your walk?” she asked.

Jamie stopped. “I’d rather be in bed with you, if you’ll allow?”

She nodded.

They undressed each other and bathed. Not together as the tub was too small, but they took the time to wash each other, stayed close by as the other bathed.

“I wish I had a scissors,” Brienne muttered, running her fingers through his hair. “It needs a cut.”

He took her hand and kissed the palm. “It doesn’t matter,” he said.

When the bathing was done and the fire properly tended, they climbed into the bed, face to face, not saying anything. Then they reached out to touch each other’s cheeks and lips. She tugged on the grey patches in his beard. They usually forgot there was more than ten years between them.

“It doesn’t matter,” he said, pulling her hands away and kissing wrists where her pulse thudded under her skin.

He traced the shell of her ear with his fingertip, tugging on the earlobe, tracing down her chin and to her lips. She sucked on the tip of his finger even as she grasped his hardness. He exhaled softly, as she knew he would. He took his hand away to enjoy her touch. Her large hand and strong wrist gave his cock so much pleasure. His early seed streamed from him, and she used it to ease her hand’s travel. His hips flexed into her and he pulled her to him for a deep wet kiss. 

His hand ranged over her nipples and back, down her side and up, his touch so light it almost tickled her. Finally he slid his fingers over her sex, spreading her own excitement well over her lips and folds. “Jaime,” she gasped when he squeezed her center between two slippery fingers.

They moved close together, kissing lazily, as if they had all the time in the world. She slid a muscular leg up his own until it was high enough to run up over his butt. She used her calfand pulled him toward her, and then, moments later, she felt his hard cock push against her. He palmed her butt, pulling her to him, and she wrapped her arms around him, hips undulating until they were joined. They set a languorous pace, drawing out their pleasure rather than rushing to it. The night was young, they would make it last.

***

He got up, that song with it’s malevolent refrain humming through his head, and all the thoughts that made him a Lannister playing along with it. He pulled on his pants and tended the fire.

“Jaime?” Brienne said from the blankets, roused by the snap and crackle of new wood.

“Shh, Innocence. Back to sleep, I’m just tending the fire, like you taught me,” he said, trying to sound light. “I’m going to get some more wood. Then I’ll be back.”

She rolled over, and her eyes flicked about the room. She sighed and snuggled back into the blankets, her sapphire blue eyes all that was visible above the furs.Jaime’s chest wobbled.

“Hurry back,” she whispered before she closed her eyes to sleep.

He finished dressing and did see to the wood like a common servant. He wanted the cold and the activity. The task was soon finished. The full wood bin by Brienne’s fire gave him an odd sense of satisfaction. Brienne stirred, and blinked at him, but then she rolled over and went back to sleep. 

He sat facing away from the bed, and poured himself a glass of wine, haunted by his ghosts, his tears falling like soft rain no one would hear.When her breathing told him she was sleeping deeply, he collected his things and slipped quietly out of the room.

 

***

 

Brienne rolled onto her back, thinking the room didn’t feel right. Then she noticed his things - usually spread across the room - were gone. She teared up at the loss, but wasn’t surprised.She breathed, thinking all of her careful thoughts, just as she’d trained herself.He had always protected her, from first they met. He was trying to protect her from himself. They had been perfect and now it was over, time to move on. She wouldn’t be able to talk him out of it.

Seven Hells! She'd be damned if she didn’t at least try.

She scrambled into her night shirt and heavy armoring coat, pulled on her boots and walked down to the stables. If she lost, it would be on her feet, as a proper knight. He would have to sink the knife himself.

She walked through the castle, using the fastest route to the stables. There he was, making final adjustments to his saddle. He didn’t look up at her as she crossed the yard.

“They’re going to destroy that city, you know they will,” she said, crossing her arms.

Jaime looked down. He said softly, “Have you ever chosen not to fight?”

She walked to him, took his face in her hands and made him look at her. “You’re not like your sister. You’re not. You’re better than she is. You’re a good man, an honorable man, and you can’t save her. She’s only ever been the ruin of you - you don’t need to die with her, no matter what you think. Stay. Stay with me. Please,” she said, half command and half plea. Her lower lip quivered, and tears came.

Jaime’s face, which had been set in that blank mask he wore when he couldn’t take his own emotions, softened a little. He pulled her hands gently from his face, kissing her palm and wrist, as he so liked to do.

““You think I am a good man? An honorable one?” He held her hands to his chest and nodded gently in understanding. Then he looked her in the eye and said,“I pushed a boy out of a tower window - crippled him for life - for Cersei. I strangled my cousin with my own hands, just to get back to Cersei,” his grip tightened on her hand, his golden hand crushed her arms to his chest. “I would have murdered every man, woman, and child in Riverrun for Cersei,” he said fiercely. 

He looked at her face, expecting her look to change from attachment to disgust, but she didn’t feel any kind of change, so her face didn’t show one. His face wore confusion at her constancy.

She frowned at him through tears that ran unchecked. “I knew about your cousin already, you forget I was in the camp. You could have slaughtered all of Riverrun, but you didn’t, you found a way not to. As for the boy I can only assume is Brandon Stark, you must have been forgiven, or you’d be dead. Those sins were all long ago and not repeated. They have been forgiven or atoned for with your own blood. Cersei is a spiteful thing, and would never truly seek either pardon or penance, not in her heart. But you have - why can you not forgive yourself?”

Jaime had that flat dull look he got when he went away inside. He barely looked at her when he said,“She is hateful. And so am I.”

Brienne wept as he turned away from her, adjusted his tack and mounted his horse. Just as as he was about to ride off, she said to his back, “You really are a coward, Kingslayer.”

He seemed to shrink a little, but then cantered off, without looking back.

Her sobbing could be heard as he rode out of the gate.

 

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I have a satisfying epilogue mapped out for Brienne, though that will probably be it. Not nihilistic (take that GRRM!!) and perhaps a bit romantic. I tried to keep "love and romance" out of this piece because of the ambiguity of their plot in show. This piece aims to show how more time COULD have seen it play out. I think I have narratively earned a little bit of romance for the epilogue here, so I'm going to write it. I want it out before Sunday, too. 
> 
> If over the top melodrama (and high fantasy) sounds good to you, read my other stuff. It's more wordy and based off of a video game, but there are some funny parts and naughty parts, some OCs and some from the game. Still, if all you read of my work is this Ballad of Brienne and Jaime - The Lion and the Maiden Fair? - then I thank you for your time! Your support has meant a great deal to me.


	4. Apotheosis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brienne and Sansa come to an understanding.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I keep adding, I know. But this is it...and the Epilogue. Though depending how things end, the epilogue may not be possible - like if everyone is dead. Then even this ending is another universe.
> 
> The episodes leave some details outstanding so I too have left a few things intentionally vague. I begin to understand the MANY holes in this season - understand but not forgive. There needed to be AT LEAST 2 and probably 3 episodes more.
> 
> Thank you for reading - and though I stay true to the show (sorry?) - I hope you find this ending more satisfying. It may not be the one we wanted for them, but I *hope* it is narratively consistent. I'd love to hear your thoughts.

***

Sansa knocked softly on Brienne’s door. “Brienne? It’s Sansa. I know you sent word you were unwell. I just wanted to see if the maester was needed.”

“You may enter, Lady Sansa,” she said. She almost sounded normal.

Sansa came in quickly and shut the door. Brienne sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the floor. She was undressed, still in her nightshirt, but she wore an armoring coat and her boots sat on the floor next to her. “How are you, really? The guards at the gate said Ser Jaime rode out before dawn. They said you had words?”

Brienne took short breaths and rubbed her eyes, but tears came anyway. “He’s ridden South.”

“Is he to join the Northern army?” Sansa asked.

Brienne’s tears still threatened. “I couldn't say,” she said with a sigh.

“But what do you think?” Sansa pressed, a small voice nagging her at the back of her mind.

Brienne looked up, studying Sansa’s face. “My lady, I believe he’s gone to die with his sister. But I wouldn't want the Northmen to know this, if possible. At least until everything is done in King’s Landing, I would hold out hope he’s gone to aid his brother, or at worst to speak sense to that poisonous woman. I don’t think he’ll fight for her.”

“I see,” Sansa said. Brienne was pale, and her eyes and nose were red, as if she’d been crying. “Forgive me, but how are you? You were obviously close. As much as I didn’t care for the Kingslayer, he was always good to you.”

“Please don't call him that. He’s a shit and has other crimes to his name, but that name isn’t fair, my lady. Please don’t use it with me,” Brienne said in a dull tone. Noticing Sansa’s confusion, Brienne continued, “Do you know what wildfire is?”

“It’s green fire, explosive, and burns hot. Tyrion used it to destroy Stannis’ fleet in Blackwater Bay. It's also what Cersei used to level the Great Sept of Baelor, or so I’m told,” Sansa said.

“Yes, exactly. Mad King Aerys had his pyromancers place it everywhere under the city. At the end of Robert's Rebellion, when the rebel armies approached, King Ayres was going to have the pyromancers blow up the city and everyone in it. So Jaime killed the pyromancers, and then sixteen-year-old Jamie killed the king, saving the city and everyone in it. When the rebels arrived, no one wanted an explanation, they only wanted to judge him.”

Sansa sat down in a chair at the table, facing Brienne. “All those people. What kind of king destroys his own city? And all that judgment - all these years. Even my father.”

Brienne took a deep breath. “As you say. Jaime is not wholly bad,” Brienne said. “No matter what he thinks.” Brienne fell back into the bed, sobbing, curling up with her back to Sansa.

Sansa realized again, as she had at his trial, Jaime Lannister was the reason she was sitting safely in her own keep. He had attacked her family, but out of loyalty to his brother and House. When she had been a Lannister, he had been polite. What had she done - what would she do for the honor and safety of her family? “I am sorry, Brienne. Ser Jaime is a complicated man. But I asked about you - how are you?”

Brienne hiccupped a few breaths, as if trying to answer, but then simply wailed. Heartbroken was not too strong a word, it was plain to see. Sansa stood and went to the bed, sitting on it and rubbing Brienne’s back. Her mother had done this, when she was small, and it had always calmed her down. Brienne continued to cry, as if an entire life’s frustrations and sorrows were coming up, like she was purging sickness from her body. Sansa kept rubbing her back.

She was surprised by the depth of Brienne’s feelings for the - for Jaime. Her mother trusted Brienne. She trusted Brienne. Brienne trusted and cared for Jaime. Perhaps there was more to him than she would have guessed. She felt bad now, for how she had treated him after the Battle of Winterfell. The tasks she knew he would loath. Her questions about his intentions toward Brienne, toward her House. For basically telling him his sister was going to die in the sacking of King’s Landing. Perhaps she had been out of the North too long.

When the large woman had calmed a little, she said through hiccups, “We, what we had, it wasn’t enough for him to stay. I just - I just wasn’t enough.” The crying started over again, and her sturdy frame was wracked with heaving sobs.

“You can’t think that,” Sansa said, her own faded conscience now biting at her stomach. “He did respect you, did care for you, he told me so himself. Your opinion mattered to him. Knighting you - he said it was the honor of his life. He knows your worth.”

Brienne rolled over to look at Sansa. She had never been pretty and was less so now. Her face was all puffy and red, and sorrow pulled the corners of her mouth down, even as the tears made her blue eyes sparkle. “He said that?”

“Truly,” Sansa answered. Sansa had seen Jaime with Cersei, and she had seen Jaime with Brienne. He had been different here at Winterfell, as if chastened. “You made him laugh, with real mirth. Cersei never did that. And your common interests. He never sat with her talking of swords and training, and martial whatnot. They did not share war stories. She barely listened to him at court, and she always seemed disappointed with him. Your smile made him blush, like he was embarrassed to be cared for so much,” she continued. “And, whatever happened in your bedroom, he kept that to himself. Tyrion said he tried to get him to talk, but that all he would say,” these words had made Sansa a little emotional when she first heard them, and they did so again now. She wiped her eyes. “All he would say was that you were to be treasured.”

Brienne started crying again, but this time through a smile, at least briefly. “Treasured. But not enough.” She rolled over and gave her back to Sansa again.

Brienne was older than Sansa, but in many ways still - young. Sansa took a deep breath and tried to remember herself as a young girl, a stupid romantic girl. She had cried when her father suggested breaking her engagement to that monster Joffrey, not that she knew any better at the time. So, perhaps Brienne was due a good cry, but she’d be damned if she’d let the woman blame herself for Jaime’s damage.“Sometimes, things happen to people, and it changes them. It changes who they are, how they think about themselves, the world. It was like that for Theon Greyjoy. Ramsay Bolton captured Winterfell from Theon. He beat him, tortured him - unmanned him. He convinced Theon that his name was Reek and that no one loved him, only Ramsey loved him. When Yara Greyjoy, Theon’s sister, came to rescue him, he wouldn’t leave. He couldn’t get himself to believe that anyone loved him that much, that it wasn’t some trick Ramsey was playing. He chose to stay with Ramsay because all that torture, all that pain, all the things that Theon had done before - they made him believe he didn’t deserve good things.

“I didn’t know this about Ramsay, when I married him. He hid it from me, until our wedding night. I expected a little pain, my septa was very clear about that, but what Ramsay did, what he continued to do - I am not the same. Theon saved himself, he saved me. And then you saved us both,” Sansa left off, emotions she hadn’t thought about in some time bubbling up from the pit of her stomach. Sansa realized she had been using her pain, her rage, what she had learned at the hands of her tormentors too much. If they were their inside her, so were her father and mother, Maester Luwin and Septa Mordane. The South had had many lessons, but she was in the North now. She needed to remember.

“You tried to save Jaime. His leaving here had no more to do with you than Theon’s not leaving had to to with Yara. Theon got free, in the end, but Jaime has been tortured by that snake of a sister his entire life. They were born together. I don’t think he knew how else to be, until you. The Lannister sigil should be vipers.” Sansa observed that the tears had stopped, though the heavy hiccups remained. “And now, the poison has sunk too deep. Despite how he cares for you, treasures you, laughs with you, she has already blighted his heart. He is already dead. You cannot blame yourself.”

Sansa wondered something else. She waited until Brienne had calmed even more. “Can I ask you something, something private? I - I just, if I am going to do Jaime the kindness of hiding his disgrace as long as I can, I would like to know one last thing, and then you should have the rest of your cry out.”

“You may ask anything, Lady Sansa. I have no secrets,” she said.

“Alright then,” Sansa said. “Jaime Lannister can be a shit, and Jaime Lannister can be honorable, but is he - was he good to you? Kind, as a man should be to a woman?”

Brienne started, and then turned over and sat up, looking Sansa in the eye andstudying her face, making Sansa feel like a bit of a vulture. “I can see this isn’t for jest, Lady Sansa, so I’ll give you a better answer than Jaime gave Tyrion,” she said, taking Sansa’s hand. “Jaime is a shit, and a coward, and right now I hate him, but he was a tender lover, from the first to the last. Not that I expect it to happen, but were I ever to come to care for a man again, and he for me, it would be no hardship to take him to bed. What happens between women and men can be a joy, should be a joy.”

It was Sansa’s turn to cry. She wiped the tears away. “I’m sorry. These will be over in a moment. My mother always said much the same, and bore my father five children in happiness. I have to trust both of you. The stupid, romantic little girl I once was still adores a love story, even a tragic one,” she said.

Brienne leaned back against the headboard next to Sansa. “I hope, Lady Sansa, that whatever happens, whatever is or has been horrible in this life, that we never give up on fairy tales, not really. But instead of the handsome knight there is the broken one, and the fierce maiden, rather than the fair.”

Sansa laughed and wiped her tears. “Where the princess saves herself and the king, and the ending is both bitter and sweet.”

 

***

 

Sansa read the raven and passed it to Brienne. Brienne read the scroll, hardly knowing what the words meant.

_Attack on King’s Landing began as planned. Queen Daenerys successful in destroying Iron Fleet, remaining Scorpions, and bringing down the main gate. Northern forces began the sack of the city. Soon the bells rang for surrender. Despite the bells, Queen Daenerys and Drogon razed the city with Northern forces still inside. Most of the Red Keep was destroyed. Cersei, Euron Greyjoy, and other advisors presumed dead. Northern forces fell back upon attack of the city after surrender._

 

***

 

It was strange, being in Winterfell, in her room, safe and warm.

Brienne entered her room, placed her cloak on the pegs, and looked to the fire, but her eye stopped on a flash of red. On her bed, on what had been Jaime’s side, was a long bundle of red cloth, and a letter bearing her name in a rough script. She sat on the bed next to the bundle and unwrapped it. It was a beautifully embroidered Lannister banner swaddling Widow’s Wail. She wept silently, as she read the letter. When she was done she pulled Oathkeeper from her sheath and laid the two swords together. After a moment Brienne laid down on the bed and cried herself to sleep.

In the morning, after tending to the swords and the fire, she dressed and went about her day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Of course I wrote the letter! 
> 
> ~~~  
> Ser Brienne -
> 
> People are full of contradictions. They want things one way. Then they want them another. You are either a beauty or a beast. A hero or a kingslayer. They are almost always half-right. 
> 
> As you know, I have only been with two women in my life. A beauty and a beast. You are the beauty, who has tried to offer me grace at every turn. You very nearly made me an honorable man, Ser. You are my better self. 
> 
> I know you will eventually forgive me for choosing my worser part, so I leave you Widow’s Wail as remembrance of me. Keep it always with Oathkeeper. They belong together. 
> 
> We don’t choose who we love, but know this - one Jaime died in your arms in the baths at Harrenhal. We both tried to make the Jaime that rose from that bath a good man. Sadly, I am too much a coward. If I have any luck, I will die again with Cersei before I ever have to face the shame of leaving you. It would be a good joke, by both the Old Gods and the New, if I had been fated to die twice, both times in the arms of the woman I love. 
> 
> Farewell Ser-  
> Jaime


	5. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> War has consequences, but so does love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gentle Readers - 
> 
> Somewhere in the deep recesses of my brain, there is a chapter where Jaime leaves for the city, goes to the Red Keep, tries to convince Cersei to leave peaceably, becomes infuriated with her (and Euron) and pushes her out of the same window Tommen jumped from, then makes his way out of the Keep and back to Brienne a more haunted but healing man. 
> 
> But this is not that place. However, this version I find soothing nevertheless. There were many missed opportunities in the past two seasons so that instead of a tragedy as good as Oedipus, we got - what we got. 
> 
> I think Season 7 needed one more episode and Season 8 needed two or three more. I'm not sure writers could get out of the hole, though, as I found myself in the same place eventually. Still, I hope this little piece rounds things out - and that the wheel is, if not broken, at least less crushing than it had been before for the women of Westeros.

 

Tyrion frowned at Ser Brienne, who stood before him in her gold armor. “Well, Ser, just spit it out. You asked to speak with me about a delicate family matter, and here we are, so speak. The rest of the small council will be here soon and then we won't be able to hear ourselves think let alone discuss anything over Bronn and Davos. It’s been three months since our first council meeting, but I’ll be happy if we can make it a year before they come to blows at the table.”

Brienne put her hand on the hilt of Oathkeeper. Her face was pale, almost green. “Nothing could make me prouder than serving His Grace, but I am afraid I may not be able to serve him for much longer. At least temporarily. Depending on your thoughts. And the king’s.”

“What?” Tyrion said. “The appointment to the kingsguard is for life. You serve at His Grace’s pleasure. I have no say in the matter. One doesn’t get a reprieve from the Kingsguard, Lady Commander.”

“I understand, Lord Tyrion, and this is not about my pleasure. My appointment to the kingsguard is the greatest honor and achievement of my life. I don’t want to let it go. It is just that, physically, I may not be in any condition to be protecting the king,” she said. She frowned, then dashing to the small potted tree near the windows, threw up into it before Tyrion could even speak.

Samwell Tarly entered the room. “Has she told you yet?” Sam asked, pouring a cup of water and handing it to Brienne before sitting in his place.

Tyrion didn’t know who to see about first. “Is Ser Brienne seriously unwell? All she got out was that she might not be able to serve the king and then - well, as you see.”

“This part is never agreeable, and it’s lasting longer than usual, but we have no reason to believe other than it will soon be over,” Sam said. “Do you need anything else, Ser Brienne?”

She shook her head and moved to her seat at the table, pouring herself more water before sitting down. “A moment, if you please,” she said, collecting herself. “I don’t even know how to begin again.”

Sam calmly took his seat, but Tyrion couldn’t help but think something dreadful was about to be laid at his feet.

Brienne began again, heaving a great heavy sigh. “I am with child, Lord Tyrion. Now you tell me if I am fit to guard the king.”

The wine glass in Tyrion’s hand slipped through his fingers and shattered on the floor. “With? With?” was all he got out, his mouth moving but no coherent speech coming out.

Sam rolled his eyes at both of them. “Ser Brienne is quite healthy, Lord Tyrion. Her condition is temporary, and began before she was appointed to the kingsguard. She has broken no vows, as she probably had no thought for her condition when she made them. I am sure, among us here, we can find some logical outcome.”

Tyrion could not believe his brother had done it again.“Fathering children seems to be the thing my brother was best at, after all.”

“This wasn't meant to happen. I have never been a regular woman. I didn’t even think I could, that I was - fit - in that way,” Brienne said. “I - we - we should have been more careful. I will understand if I must be stripped of my cloak and position,” she said. “A Lady Commander was already highly irregular.”

“Let us not get ahead of ourselves,” Tyrion said, his brain now digesting the information he’d been given. “As Tarly has pointed out, we have some wiggle room, if not precedent. We’ve chosen our king, surly we can find room for a pregnant Lady Commander of the Kingsguard. Tarly, what - how - will she be able to do her duties?”

“I would like to read more, but both times, Gilly only got really encumbered the last few weeks. I would say what she does depends mostly on Ser Brienne, other than just after giving birth while she is healing. No different than a war wound - bleeding is bleeding. After that she should be right back to fighting shape,” Sam said with a smile.

“Hmm,” Tyrion said.

Brienne just shook her head. “I don’t know anything about babies, or children. My mother died when I was quite small. This whole thing is not what I would have chosen. I worked to put my memories of your brother away, but the world it seems has other plans. This is a disaster on many levels.”

“No. No it isn’t,” Tyrion said, “compared to what we have all just lived through. It’s just as it should be. We have all been too long at war, have overseen too many deaths. Life must follow on it’s heals if the world is to go on. Jaime supported your goals, admired them. He helped where he could. I doubt he would like being the cause of the upset of your life - any more than he'd already been. There is not a man on the council that doesn't know how hard you worked to earn it. Why should this little hiccup change anything?”

Ser Brienne nodded to Tyrion. “I appreciate that Tyrion, but there is more to it than just ourselves. This will be a scandal, to be sure. Men skip away from the shame of their bastards. Women carry it with them plainly, as do the children saddled with a bastard’s name.”

“And you, Lady Commander,” King Bran said from the doorway, Ser Podrick pushing his wheeled chair into the room, “does this baby shame you?”

They all stood at the appearance of the king. Bran regarded Brienne calmly, as he always had since asking her to be his Lady Commander. “Well, does it? You closed the book on Ser Jaime rather definitively, after you completed his page in the Book of Brothers.”

Brienne blushed a bit, but said, “If I closed the book harshly, it is because no good can come of crying over the past. For myself, I feel no shame. I am used to the judgment of others and care only for my own council, Your Grace’s and others that wish me well. It is the uncertainty that troubles me. This child was created on accident, but with great affection on both sides, I believe. My worry is for the child going forward.”

Bran nodded. “The past teaches lessons, but if we stay there too long, it could very well trap us,” Bran said softly. “So what would you do - go away for a time, keep it secret, a foster in another noble house or perhaps on Tarth? Or stay and have the baby here, in view of Westeros? Understand, either way you’ll still be the Lady Commander of the Kingsguard.”

Brienne nodded, saying, “Thank you, Your Grace.” She sipped her water. “There is much to consider, in this new Westeros. Family names, inheritances, legitimacy.”

Tyrion started to blubber, much to the surprise of the council. “Lady Commander - Brienne. Please, stay here. Your child will be my family, too. My only family. We could ask the king to legitimize the child. Boy or girl, this baby would also be my heir - the heir to Casterly Rock.”

Brienne sat for a moment thinking. “This is a greater matter than one Lady Commander and one bastard child. This child has a House, perhaps even two Houses, as it has two parents. A child for a woman is not like that of a man. A woman knows she is the mother of her child, and I’d wager usually knows the father too, unless she is a - paid companion. Why can the child not use the mother’s name? Especially when it's a question of inheritance among noble Houses. If a woman is the heir or sovereign, as is Yara Greyjoy, why should her children be other than Greyjoy? Will Sansa Stark, Queen in the North, give birth to aught but Starks? No offense to House Lannister, but why should mine not be Tarth?” she said as if coming to a decision aloud.

Bran looked back and forth between Tyrion and Brienne. “This may be a matter for the Hand and the Master of Laws to settle, in consultation with the Lady Commander. Questions of rightful succession are what start wars, as we have seen. Many men were lost in this War of Ice and Fire. Many noble Houses are currently left with only the female line to inherit. We can set precedence with this child, and others soon to come. As for Lord Tyrion’s heir, perhaps we can shape those expectations too, by naming heirs as well as birthing them,” he said.

Tyrion had collected himself during the discussion. “I see no reason this child cannot be named Tarth, at its birth. The child could be made a Lannister at some later time. We can let it be known this is so, that it is my will, as encouragement to others to do the same. I am not my father’s first born, after all. In fact I’m sure the man is twisting in the Seven Hells just thinking about it.”

“This sort of thing has been happening all along - Bear Island, Tarth itself, all the ladies here in Westeros left in charge of Houses great and small. There’s hardly a man alive between the ages of 14 and 50. Perhaps now we can find a way to codify it,” Samwell said, “for the good of the Realm.”

“For the good of the Realm,” King Bran said. “I think you have it now, Councilors.”

 

***

 

Tyrion watched Ser Bronn sparring with his young partner at the water’s edge, in the same place where Jaime had tried to relearn the skill that had made him happiest. They came here to practice left-handed, as the Great Cat loved to pretending to be Ser Jaime, survivor of the Long Night, Knight of the Bells, Broken Shield of the People of King’s Landing. Although, other times the Cat was Arya Stark, stabbing the Night King to save the living. Tyrion loved to tell Cat stories about Brienne and Jaime, about other Lannisters, the Targaryens, the Queen Sansa and Arya Stark - even Jon Snow. Some of the stories were even true. The tall, slim child reminded Tyrion of Jamie. Beautiful, the Great Cat was, all blond hair and fine features and impossibly long legs for a nine year old, though with eyes of Tarth blue instead of Lannister green. Tyrion loved no one in the world more. He had been honored when Brienne allowed him to stand as foster father for the child, and not only uncle. The Great Cat was his lion.

Lady Commander Brienne came walking down the steps, watching Bronn and Cat spar, smiling. After these nine years working with Brienne, it was Tyrion’s favorite smile, the one she’d given his brother, and now their child. She stood, in her tall, quiet way, and watched them finish. “Very nice. Your father would be proud. You’ve even gotten better about your thumb,” she said.

The Great Cat leaped into Brienne’s arms, kissing her everywhere. “Thank you! Thank you! Thank You! I have worked so hard on that!”

“I can see that you have,” Brienne said. “And your right hand is even better. But remember, there is more to a knight than swordplay.”

Cat let go of Brienne and hugged Bronn, who had joined them near the steps. “Thank you, Ser Bronn. I love fighting left handed.”

“You are welcome, Lady Catelyn,” Bronn said. “Never could get your father to use his left thumb properly.”

The little girl straightened, at the use of her proper title. Tyrion knew Brienne liked to tell her to be her best at whatever she set her mind to, whether that be as a knight or a lady. “I try to be as good a knight as my mother and father.”

“You’re on your way, then,” he said, still breathing heavily. “Now please excuse me, it’s taking me longer than usual to get up the stairs these days.”

Brienne and Tyrion nodded to him, and they both turned to Catelyn. Brienne took the practice swords and one small hand, while Tyrion took the other. They started walking up the stairs. “Mother, are you sure you cannot come with Pawpaw Tyrion and I to Tarth?” Catelyn asked. “Grandpa and Lady Seaworth will miss you.”

“I cannot, as much as I would like to go. I can only go when the King travels to the Stormlands for his Progress. My duties are with the king. Besides, it is important for a young lady to have some adventures without her mother. Or what else would we have to talk about when you return?”

The little girl giggled. “You could tell me about daddy again - about when you fought the bear.”

“You’ve heard that story a thousand times already!” Brienne smiled.

“Yes, but I can’t imagine you in a dress. I think it’s funny,” the little girl said.

“Now you’re just being cheeky,” Brienne said.

“No I am not!” Cat declared. “I mean, why would you ever wear a dress? You wear a knight’s cloak to state events with King Bran and you already had daddy. Dresses are only for formal occasions and catching men, as far as I can tell.”

Brienne and Tyrion both laughed at that. Cat’s little mind was always busy filling in gaps that the adults left for her. They had agreed to leave a lot out, rather than lie about it outright. And in this new Westeros, there were many young women at court as soldiers and knights, or heads of Houses. In this next year, at the ten year memorial, they would be knighting several new female Sers among the other festivities, in honor of Lyanna Mormont, a hero of the Long Night.

Before either parent had to come up with a better explanation, the Tarly children screamed down from the heights, calling for the Great Cat to come play. Brienne nodded at her daughter, who ran off to join Sam and Jon.

“Brienne, I am sad everyday that I didn’t leave Jaime chained to that post in the Northern camp on the Day of the Bells. Great Cat shouldn't be an only child.”

“What foolishness you speak, Tyrion. His living past the day doesn't mean we would have been together again,” Brienne said.

Tyrion was surprised. “Would you not have taken him back? I mean, not at once, but eventually. Especially when you found out about Cat.”

“I don't know, if I am honest. But even if we had - come to an understanding again - he wouldn't have been able to be a blameless knight, and he would have hated feeling like he failed again. Cat might have been the making of him, but it's just as likely he would have crumbled under the pressure,” she said as they walked slowly up the steps.

“What do you mean?”

“Your brother was a brave man, and honorable when he could be, but he was also an arrogant asshole. A person he could respect on their own, but the masses - I don't think he really cared about them beyond whether they were useful to him. Broken Shield of the People of King’s Landing? Please.”

Tyrion smirked. “That one was a stretch, but it's possible. The bells rang, as we had planned. The city surrendered. Daenerys razed it anyway. Cersei was bad, the Dragon Queen was worse. Jon Snow saved us from her and was punished for it - the man who should have been King of the Seven Kingdoms. The best of us, truly. But Bran the Broken saw us through the end of the war, the Uprisings, through the Great Rebuilding, and into what I hope will be the Age of Laws. These tales are fundamentally true, but no more true than those that come to us from the Age of Heroes, nevermind what they’ll be in one hundred years time, or a thousand. If the people love a story, why not one about my brother? The tales say he went into the city as an unarmed noncombatant to plead with our sister to leave, or at least ring the bells in surrender - he saved the city from Targaryen madness before and got only derision. Why should he not get a little credit for trying to save it again? Normally, you're more supportive of his memory.”

“Normally, yes. Catelyn will hear enough truth about her father, she doesn't need to also hear it from me. He had his good points. But I wouldn't want her to put him beyond reproach. No one should be beyond reproach. No one can be that good,” she said.

“This from you, Ser Brienne? Who is better than you?” Tyrion said, stopping to look up at his tall companion.

“I am not that good, Tyrion. I feel wrath and jealousy. I judge where perhaps understanding and mercy might be better. I am only human. And Cat should know this about both her father and myself.”

They walked along in quiet, as they often did. Tyrion liked this about Brienne. She wasn’t chatty, but the conversation was still good - better - from it being less but of more import.

The children came screaming down past them, Gilly and Sam behind. The children were stripping off clothes as they went - they were going to go swimming. The four greeted each other warmly, but then Sam and Gilly went down.

They watched the children swimming and laughing, and Sam and Gilly too, wading at least, near enough to grab the children if need be. Tyrion and Brienne went down to the little bench a landing below them. Swimming made Brienne nervous, but she didn’t want to hover.

After some time, Tyrion asked, “Brienne, did you love my brother? I have never heard you say it.”

Brienne didn’t look at him, only at Catelyn. “Of course I loved him. But it was never worth talking about while she was alive.”

“I know he loved you, in whatever way was left to him after Cersei,” Tyrion said.

“We were equals and friends. I had the best of him, even if I didn’t get to keep him, in the end. I don’t regret being second best,” Brienne said. “We don’t choose who we love.”

“You really are too good. You can’t tell me you weren’t a little jealous,” Tyrion said.

“Of course I was. Hopelessly jealous. But then I realized three things. First, that he could have had many other women, despite his vows, but that he chose not to break them. Yet he pursued me, made love with me. If he had been able to choose, I was his choice. Second, our child was made in celebration of life, in an open attachment and with the approbation of our family and friends. I may look like a monster to many, but our child is no abomination in either sept or godswood,” she stopped and smiled at the shrieking beasts below them.

“And the third?” Tyrion asked when she didn’t continue.

“And third,” she said slowly, seriously. “And third, if being Cersei Lannister was what it took to be Jaime’s only love - well - I believe it’s very easy to not be Cersei Lannister,” she said with a wry smile for Tyrion. “I should never want to be Cersei Lannister.”

“Good point,” Tyrion said. “I should think Westeros has had its fill of mad queens, excepting Queen Sansa, of course. You’re still willing to allow our Great Cat to foster at Winterfell for a time once she is old enough?”

“I am. She should know the North, where she was made, and Queen Sansa is what is best in a sovereign. Not to mention the queen’s mother was Cat’s namesake. Catelyn Tully Stark was not my own mother, but she was the first woman to believe in me and depend on me as one would a knight.”

“Queen Sansa has proven a most capable ruler,” Tyrion said with a wistful smile.“It is possible for a woman to make the better ruler. I have no doubt queens can be strong and kind, demanding and just. Shrewd but honorable. After our dear childless king, a woman may just be what the Six Kingdoms need, I say.”

“Tyrion Lannister, I will make you a Quarter Man and feed you your own testicles if you even try to put my daughter on the throne after Bran, as I live and breathe.”

“Ah, Brienne of Tart, I have missed you,” Tyrion said.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a real dilemma, trying to decide whether to knock Brienne up or not. Seems like GoT has some seriously magical sperm going on there in Westeros. People who should get preggo don't (Sansa - thank all the gods), people who have sex once do (Edmure's wife), all the women seem to die in childbirth (Joanna) or young (too many), or miscarry (Dany) unless they are very evil (Cersei) or very good (Catelyn).
> 
> I went with what was worse for Brienne because, GRRM. But it seemed to me to force the King and the Court to grow. Brienne, too. 
> 
> Thank you for reading all of this - it's been an education.
> 
> HB


End file.
